all of the stars (will guide us home)
by abbyli
Summary: Her journey of finding her way home to his arms.


**entitled:** all of the stars (will guide us home)

**summary:** A journey of finding her way home to his arms.

**pairing:** daryl/beth

**rating**: t

**disclaimer:** I do not own the walking dead or it's characters. If I did, I wouldn't be fucking with everyone's emotions right now.

**notes:** If it turns out that we are wrong and Gimple and Co. are that stupid, then they better be ready because they are going to have a league of pissed off fans on their hands. Just sayin...

**edit:** So basically, listening to the soundtrack of 'The Fault in Our Stars', watching 'Still' and 'Alone' and drinking wine all at the same time is not the best thing for your sanity. Just sayin'.

**dedication**: to the beautiful concreteangell (aka Steph). Her beautiful hope got me to hop off the fence and back onto Denial Isle. This is for you, sweets.

.

_if you were here, i'd sing to you_

_you were on the other side_

_as the skyline splits in two_

_miles away from seeing you_

.

She awakens to darkness. Cold.

A hand is touching her forehead, none too gently. She slaps it away. Or at least, she thinks she does.

Yer all right.

The words barely register in her brain as she slips back into that darkness once again.

.

She awakens in a cabin with a man named Morgan as her company.

He's a gruff man, probably around Rick's age, barely says two words to her during the three weeks that they spend together. But he's there and he takes care of her. That's enough.

When she takes her first steps outside of the cabin after those three weeks, she's sure she looks like a newborn giraffe on roller skates. She staggers and stumbles and is exhausted after just a few feet. But it's enough.

She calls that an accomplishment.

Another three weeks pass before she stops seeing double. Morgan takes her outside. she wants to run but she can still barely walk. She hates it.

"Give it time," Morgan says to her. "Ya still have a long ways t'go."

"I..." Her voice catches in her throat. Not just her ability to walk, but her speech had been affected as well by the stupid gunshot. She could talk but not without sounding like a blithering idiot and she hated it.

Morgan was so patient with her. Almost too patient. She wanted him to get angry, to get frustrated with her because maybe, just maybe, that would spur her on.

"I need," she began slowly, forcing her tongue to cooperate with her mind. "To go."

Morgan nods knowingly, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder before directing her back to the cabin.

"I know, darlin'. I know."

.

She fights harder.

Soon she is able to walk a straight line without Morgan's help. She is able to string a sentence together without having to take several breaths in concentration.

Morgan gives her a gun.

"Ya gotta get yer fantastic headshot back again," he says to her when she gazes at the gun apprehensively. "Ya got a long journey ahead of ya."

Beth nods, walking over to the point where Morgan had set up the target. There was a silencer fixed on the end, one like Carl used to have.

She raises the pistol and her hand trembles. Beth lets out a groan of frustration and Morgan holds up a hand.

"Ya gotta hold on," the older man whispers. "Hold onto what is t'come but also remember what happened before."

Beth turns her eyes his way, confusion spreading across her face. "I -"

Morgan nods, shifting so he is standing beside her. "Take in yer surroundin's."

Beth obeys, allowing the pistol to relax in her hands.

"Raise it up."

Her fingers tighten and she raises the gun.

"Squeeze and release."

The ping-ping of the bullet's release from the chamber nearly causes her to jump in surprise. She opens her eyes and sees the new deep crevice in the tree about thirty meters away. She had missed the target but wasn't far off. She had done it.

Morgan gives her this look of pride that makes Beth want to laugh.

"Again."

.

She perfects her headshot in less than a week. Good timing too because the cabin is overrun by walkers less than a day after.

She and Morgan barely escape with their lives. They flee deeper into the woods, searching for some sort of sanctuary to last for a short amount of time. Enough time to finish healing and finding a game plan.

It's a day in when Beth can't stand it anymore.

"I have to go."

Morgan's back is to her when she says those words. She watches as those muscles begin to tense up but he doesn't look back at her.

"I know."

.

She leaves the next day with a map, a gun, a pair of Chinese ring daggers, and a small pack of food. Morgan doesn't say much as he watches her prepare but he does give her a clumsy hug before she goes. Okay, maybe she hugs him but who's keeping track?

"Thank ya," she breathes in his ear as her arms tighten around his shoulders. "For everythin'."

She hears him clear his throat gruffly as he pulls away. His eyes are surprisingly gentle as his hand comes up to gently touch the scabbed over wound on her forehead.

"Yer a fighter, Ms. Greene," he says. "Keep it that way."

The weak inherit the earth.

And they become the strong.

.

She knows she will see Morgan again, but this is her journey to take.

.

_back to the time_

_you were laying next to me_

_i looked across and fell in love_

.

They had slept under the stars that first night after the moonshine shack.

He had made a fire but it soon became so hot that he had to douse it with some dirt. With the scent of the smoke still in the air, she had fallen asleep on a bed of leaves and soft grass, her eyes tracing the constellations above.

She awoke sometime later, she wasn't sure how long. Waking up had been suddenly, without warning. Almost like someone had yelled in her ear.

He's awake, sitting up with his back resting against his pack. There's a long piece of grass stuck between his teeth like a cigarette and he chews on it thoughtfully, looking nowhere in particular.

She finds herself watching him like she had watched the stars. She counts every breath that he draws in and every breath that he lets out. It goes on like a mantra and she's sure that he will soon ask to stop fucking staring at him like a creeper but he never does.

Back in the prison, when he had left, she had been upset. Hurt almost because she had trusted him to always be there. Then suddenly he wasn't.

He was there now and she wasn't alone. Neither was he.

She felt right being there, even if they could possibly be the last two people on earth.

He's beautiful.

Not just in looks but with heart. The words that she had said to him at the shack, she had said that out of anger. She was lashing out because she was hurting and he didn't seem to care but he did. He cared too much and that was the kicker.

Watching him break down, swallowing guilt over what had happened, that had been too much for her. She couldn't let him take all that on his shoulders and that's why she pushed aside her own anger, her own pain and took his in. She burrowed into his back and listened to the beat of his broken heart, trying to find a way to take his pain away.

Laying there, watching him, that's when she begins to understand. That's when she begins to fall.

.

There's a car.

Oh, god, it's a car.

Of course, the battery's dead. Of freakin' course.

She searches it, breaking off pieces of the headlights and stuffing them in a plastic bag that she finds on the floor in the backseat. She finds a water bottle tucked in the glovebox, along with a pair of gloves ironically enough.

Then she hears the footsteps. Heavy ones. Non human ones.

"Shit," she whispers under her breath as she glances around. Judging by the strength of the steps, they couldn't be less than two minutes away.

So she acts.

Luckily the lock is broken on the trunk. Quickly clicking it open, she crawls inside and slams the top shut just as the first walker staggers out of the woods.

She barely even breathes as the herd crosses by.

It takes hours and there must be hundreds. She waits, her gun cocked and ready and pointed at the tiny sliver of light that spills through.

Exhaustion nearly takes her away but she holds on.

Morning comes and she hears the quiet. So much quiet.

As she climbs out of the trunk, she feels every ache in her bones. Weariness beyond her years wants to set in but she will not let it.

Hundreds of walker footprints surround her. So much death and it didn't get her.

.

The little girl startles her out of her wits.

Setting up a small camp near the edge of an abandoned hunting lodge property, she had gone back out into the woods and set snares. Slim pickings at first, but when she caught her first fat rabbit, she had nearly cried with relief. Living on roots and berries was beginning to catch up with her.

Today, she had caught a squirrel and two rabbits. Enough to last a few days if she took it slow but she needed the meat. She needed the strength because she knew that she was nearing the last leg of her journey before she got to the safe zone. The weather was turning colder and she had had to go on a few runs to root out more winter clothing. The holey grey sweater just wasn't cutting it anymore. Morgan had insisted on her taking his coat but she had flat out refused, knowing quite well that that was the only one he had.

As she walked along where her snares were set, she saw movement in the brush. Quickly unbuckling the safety snap on her knife, she slides behind a tree, waiting. Footsteps, human by the sound, come closer and she's ready to strike. Then the little girl comes into view.

She replaces her knife in it's sheath, taking a cautious step back from the little girl who hadn't spoken a word or even moved to run away.

"Uh, hi?" she says softly. Really smooth, Beth. "What are ya doin' out here by yerself, honey?"

The little girl couldn't be more than eight or nine years old. She's small in stature, with dark brown curls falling down her back in a messy ratty ponytail. She raises large brown eyes in her direction and shakes her head.

It suddenly occurs to her that this little girl cannot speak. As her eyes search the girl's face, she can see signs of injuries. A scar across her cheek, healing bruises at her throat.

She knows that she should let this girl go on her merry way but something is telling her to follow. To find out where she is. Perhaps...perhaps she can get a lead.

When the little girl holds out her hand, she takes it.

.

The camp was not far away, perhaps a mile. She follows the girl's footsteps, one hand on her knife and the other on her gun just in case. Before, she had had bad feelings. Hell, when she had glimpsed that Terminus sign after being kidnapped, she knew something was wrong with that. But this doesn't feel wrong. It's right.

The girl's camp contained two parents (thank god), a brother, an aunt, and three other members. All starving, all unable to track, hunt, and whatnot.

So she stays for two days. She takes the father and the brother hunting, showing them how to set snares. The brother, who couldn't be more than fifteen, has a crossbow that he had found in an old sporting goods store that they had looted weeks before, with five bolts as well.

When she holds the bow in her fingers, her heart aches.

Remembering what he had taught her, she is easily able to help the father take down a small buck. When they go to collect their prize, the father is almost weeping with relief.

"There's one thing ya can do for me," she says as she prepares to depart.

"What's that?" the mother says.

"Take me to the main road. I know I'm close t'the state line but I -"

The mother holds up a hand to silence her before she takes both of hers. "Ya got family somewhere?" she asks softly. "A husband?"

She blinks at the mother's words before she nods. "Yeah."

"We'll take ya to the main road," the woman says. "It's the least we can do."

.

_You are now crossing the Georgia State Line._

_Thank you for visiting Georgia!_

.

She catches a ride with a passing army truck and finds Glenn aboard.

Her brother in law nearly screeches with relief and shock, grabbing her so roughly that she almost cracks a rib.

"H-How?" Glenn stutters. "Ya were shot in the head!" His fingers graze her temple and she's ready to cry.

"It wasn't that bad," she shrugs. "Morgan said an inch lower and I would've been dead."

Glenn raises a brow. "Morgan?"

"Friend of Rick's. He found me after ya guys left me."

Glenn hears the slight animosity in her voice and shrinks back a bit. "Beth, we had t'leave ya - we didn't wanna - walkers -"

She leans forward in her seat, gently placing two fingers over Glenn's mouth, silencing him. "How's Maggie?" she asks.

Gratitude flashes in Glenn's eyes before the smallest of smiles cracks his lips up. "She's pregnant."

Tears suddenly burn behind her eyes and she swallows heavily at the lump in her throat. "She okay?"

"She will be."

"And Rick...Daryl?"

At those names, a shadow crosses Glenn's face. Her heart begins to beat and she reaches out. "Glenn - "

"They're alive," Glenn says quickly, raising a hand to calm her. "But they went back."

"Went back?"

"Back to Grady," he says. "I think Rick was lookin' for that Morgan fellow while Daryl -"

She leans forward so much that she is almost sitting in Glenn's lap. "What happened to Daryl?" she asks again.

Her brother in law sighs sadly, gazing at his knees. "Somethin' in him broke after ya, well, ya know. I think he's just tryin' to find out what happened."

She swallows back the new lump in her throat, brushing a hand against the stubborn tears peeking through.

"How long ago did they leave?" she asks.

"Two days," Glenn answers.

.

The truck stops, driven by a red haired fellow called Abraham, and lets her off. She hugs her brother in law one last time, wondering if she is ever going to see him again.

"Tell Maggie I'm sorry," she says before pulling her fingers away from Glenn's.

"Don't be," Glenn says, his eyes soft and knowing. "Don't ever be sorry."

Abraham is hollering at Glenn to get his Asian ass back in the truck and she is already pulling away.

"Bye Glenn."

.

She hitches a ride with a caravan stuffed with survivors from an elementary school. They are heading back into Georgia and she rides with them for almost a day. When they cross over the border back into Atlanta, she gets out with a word of thanks and good luck.

She knows the journey to Grady. She knows it too well.

Traveling back to the place where she had 'died', where she couldn't even look at the man that she had grown to care for and love in their months together. She couldn't look his way because she knew that he would know what she was about to do.

Her mistake. Her greatest mistake.

She doubted she would ever make that mistake again.

.

Grady is abandoned. No cops, no patients, no walkers.

Frightens her.

Tracking through the surrounding woods, she comes across three dead walkers, one with an arrow lodged in it's skull. An arrow with green and white fletching.

She yanks the arrow from it's head and quickly cleans the walker blood from it's tip.

She's close.

.

She runs until she is ready to drop. Her heavy footfalls attract a lone walker, a sickly thing that she easily dispatches with a blow to the head and taking the lone bolt in her fist and driving it home.

Blood spatters her hands and face but she doesn't care.

Oh, god, she's close.

.

Three miles and she finds more dead walkers. Three with shots to the head and another with it's scalp nearly hanging by a fleshy thread. She knows Rick's handiwork anywhere.

_Are we close?_

_Almost done._

_How do ya know?_

_The signs are all there. Just gotta know how to read 'em._

Another arrow, this one lodged high in the trees. Almost like it had been shot as a distraction so an escape could be made.

She hears the snarls and follows.

.

Coming into a clearing, she sees an angel wing vest. Another arrow whizzes by and she ducks, the bolt planting itself right in the tree beside her head.

She quickly pulls her pistol, her pistol with only one magazine clip left, and shoots one walker right in the head as it begins to bear down over Rick.

Rick looks around in shock as the walker crumples against him, his grey eyes widening as they settle upon her.

Without another glance, she draws her knife and drives it into the skull of the next walker when it turns towards her. She throws the body aside, ignoring the squish of blood and gore before she moves again. She sees another walker looming over a downed Daryl. There's a beat and she waits, waiting for Daryl to move. Waiting for him to rip this damn thing to shreds.

But he just lays there, unmoving.

She raises her gun, firing the last shot into the back of the walker's head. The body falls to the ground with a sickening flop and Daryl raises his head.

"Shoulda let it kill me," he says softly, his eyes downcast as he begins to rise to his feet.

"Daryl..." Rick whispers.

"What?" Daryl grumbles, his back still to her. He shifts to his right, facing Rick before she sees his whole frame tense up. Slowly, like in a dream, he turns all the way around.

She lets the now empty pistol fall from her fingers and onto the wet ground.

His crossbow slips from his hand and falls to the ground with a hard flop. His eyes trace hers and she is sure he is going to bolt.

"Beth?" he whispers, his voice crackling with emotion. At the sound of those tears, her own eyes fill up.

God, she has missed him.

Daryl starts towards her, a weave to his step. She is suddenly reminded of that horrible afternoon of Judith's birth and Rick seeing her for the first time. Realizing the awful truth and not wanting to face it but this – this is different.

This is so different.

She stays right where she is. Daryl gets closer and she notices how much he is trembling. He's afraid – oh, god – she can never let this man be afraid again.

That's when she moves forward. That's when she almost throws herself into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs around his shaking body and holding on so tight. Her fingernails embed into his vest, the tips just scratching against the wings on his back.

When she is in his arms, she feels Daryl let out a breath. A long gasp that she can tell he has been holding for so long. When she is in Daryl's arms, Daryl begins breathing again.

.

They lay together that night, closest to the fire. Rick isn't too far, sitting propped up against a tree as he watches over them.

"I don't understand," Daryl says again for the third time that evening. His fingers gently brush against her now healed bullet wound. "Ya were gone."

She shrugs a shoulder. "Morgan said a half an inch lower and I would've been a goner. But I'm not. I'm still here."

Daryl gives her the whisper of a smile. "Yeah, ya are. And I don't think I'm gonna let ya out of my sight again."

She laughs, reaching over to take his other hand. She twines their fingers together, holding on so tightly that she is sure she is going to hurt herself. But she doesn't care.

Her journey had been worth it. All of this had been worth it because of what the end result had been.

Home was not a place, it was a person.

And Beth Greene was home.

_._

_and i know these scars will bleed  
>but both of our hearts believe<br>and all of these stars will guide us home_

* * *

><p><strong>Review? Likes? Kudos? Whatnot?<strong>


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